


Cake Mix

by welcome_equivocator



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Cake, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcome_equivocator/pseuds/welcome_equivocator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The perils of Cake. Inspired by the below, with the last line lifted from Thurber’s “The Night the Bed Fell”</p>
<p>http://future-little-minhos.tumblr.com/post/24317055054/my-laughter-is-about-to-wake-the-whole-house</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake Mix

 

And of _course_ it was all Clint’s fault. Things usually were. Although it probably wouldn’t have been such an… event, if it hadn’t been for Thor’s enthusiastic participation. But living with a demigod definitely had its dangers, and some of them weren’t quite what you’d expect.

In the first place- well, in the first place it really was all Clint’s fault. Because he’d been teaching Thor to bake, which was in no way, shape, or form a bad idea at all.

Baking was one of those unexpected things that Clint did. Which, no, actually, pretty much everything Clint did was unexpected. And Tony was pretty sure that Clint liked it that way. Aside from that whole Cupid/Legolas/Robin Hood situation he had going on, Clint indulged in a breathtaking array of extracurricular activities, which were almost completely unrelated to each other. And baking, Tony had thought, was on the relatively innocuous end of that spectrum.

Oh how wrong he had been.

 

* * *

 

The first hint was the time he had walked into the kitchen only to find himself stuck fast in the not-insubstantial layer of cake batter coating the floor.

“GREETINGS!” Thor boomed at him, and Tony saw, slightly to his horror, that Thor was attempting to use Mjollnir as a kind of manual Kitchen Aid and that was just –

“Our fine archer has been teaching me the noble skill of cookery!” Thor continued, grinning broadly, and Tony turned to see Clint, perched on top of the refrigerator, calmly eating chocolate chips out of a bag.

“Clint.” Tony said. “Clint. What. Is. This.”

“Baking.” Clint shrugged, and tossed a few more chocolate chips (the Ghiradelli ones Tony had been trying to hide, and he really should have known better but anyway) into his mouth.

“I don’t even-“ Tony began, and then shut his mouth, because, honestly, what was there to say.

“You would be a most welcome comrade-in-arms in this glorious battle” Thor informed him. “Once we have beaten egg and grain into submission, we are to send it to the fires of your machine there.” He pointed towards the oven with Mjollnir, now liberally dripping with batter that looked-

“Clint.” Tony said again. “Clint. Is that _Funfetti_?”

Clint tossed a handful of chocolate chips down into the mixing bowl with his usual deadly aim.

They spelled out “YES”.

 

* * *

 

The second hint was the time the entire house discovered that Clint had introduced Thor to the concept of “frosting”.

Apparently, Clint had not bothered to explain (or perhaps he had bothered, but not in the way the cleaning crew might have liked) that there was a time and a place for frosting. Namely, that the time was during a cake-making project and that the place was _on the fucking cake_.

On this particular occasion, Clint and Thor had mixed up a large batch of frosting in a particularly virulent shade of purple that Clint was fond of, and Thor had decided to reenact ‘Harold and the Purple Crayon’ all over the Avengers’ mansion.

“I wish to emulate the deeds of the brave warrior, Harold!” Thor had announced, covering the walls with dragons and runes and bilgesnipe and God knew what else because Tony certainly didn’t.

Tony was very glad, however, that Asgardian magic did not extend to granting the properties of Harold’s crayon to Thor’s frosting art. Mjollnir did enough damage as was, and Tony was not exactly thrilled about the idea of having 5 deformed dragons and 7 bow-legged bilgesnipe running wild through the mansion.

They had a Hulk for that.

 

* * *

 

The third hint was the time with the fondant, and, quite honestly, the less said about that, the better. 

 

* * *

 

Then there was the actual event itself, which was perhaps, maybe, possibly not the _worst_ thing ever, but seriously tested Tony’s theory on whether it was possible or not to die of embarrassment.

How it had started was- well, to make a long story short, a few months of building tension around the mansion and a few near-death experiences in the field and a few near-homicidal experiences with Reed Richards had culminated in a very unexpected but extremely excellent night in Steve’s room and when Tony discovered that they had both overslept, the sense of dread he felt took physical form in the sound of shuffling coming from the other side of the door.

“Steve!” He poked Steve in the ribs. “Steve!”

Steve rolled over and look at him sleepily. “What?”

“ _They are all out there right now. I know it. ALL of them_.”

And, he didn’t know, he guessed he expected Steve to blush or freak out or something, but all he did was say “Oh” and then rolled over again and went back to sleep.

So Tony was left staring at the door by himself, thinking hard at it about all the unpleasant things he was going to do to them and why in hell had he never sound-proofed this room and-

And apparently in Asgard it was just a thing to walk into people’s private rooms with large hordes of people behind you and-

Was that a _cake_?

Thor strode into the room, beaming and bearing before him one of the more massive cakes Tony had ever seen. Clint was, of course, right next to him with an absolutely filthy expression on his face, and Natasha was hanging back, impassive but clearly amused, and Bruce was kind of peering around the edge of the doorframe and trying _really_ hard not to laugh.

“Many felicitations to you upon this momentous day!” Thor greeted them. “I have been informed that it is Midgardian custom to offer gifts and congratulations upon a successful coupling!” And with that, he shoved forward the cake.

The cake was- well, the cake pretty much defied description, but it was large and white-frosted and covered in an obscene about of curlicue and rune. Tony supposed it was joint venture, and when he looked over at Clint not only were his suspicions on that front confirmed, but he also knew that the cake itself was going to be Funfetti. There was also probably supposed to be an inscription on the top, but the runes and curlicues were too many and had overwhelmed it. Trying to read it turned out to be a mistake because, seeing Tony lean forward, Clint decided to translate for him.

“Congrats on the sex!” Clint yelled, which finally, finally woke up Captain Steve “I can apparently sleep through anything” Rogers, who sat bolt upright, went pale, then bright red, and then started to laugh like a hyena on speed.

Hyena laughter, well-known for being contagious, then quickly seized the entire room, and when everyone had recovered, Tony managed to shoo them out, and he and Steve sat on the bed staring at the cake.

“I’m just glad,” said Steve, who always tried to look on the bright side of things, “that Fury wasn’t here.”

 


End file.
